247365

Tuesday’s child hasn’t met all yesterday’sbreakdowns, yet. Sunday’s child knows godto be just a collection of imageslost in electricity and its attendant sorrow.Monday’s childis just too weak to weighwhat can be lifted from Saturday’s slumped shouldersand laid to rest.all the other days lie barren, bent backwards and in piecesbelying the peace that could be knownif only we found the recipe for rectitude,the (moral) code that unlocks all those parental doors –society is a mother,but not for dayless children, not for dayless children,not for the limp and livid, the sorry and slutted, relentless, ruined, crazed, craven broken, rebuilt, broken again, rebuilt again, broken againrebuilt,society is a mother,but not for us.